


StormPilot Suite: Day 2 - Mesto

by whorl



Series: StormPilot Suite [4]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Stormpilot - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 05:17:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6598273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whorl/pseuds/whorl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finn and Poe Dameron get to know each other. Perhaps a little romance may blossom, if they are given enough time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Belief

**Author's Note:**

> Poe Dameron, Finn, myriad other Star Wars characters, and small sections of dialogue from "The Force Awakens" that appear in this story are all the property of Disney/Lucasfilm. No copyright infringement intended. Please don't sue me, I have no money.

Finn had been running back and forth from the supply depot all morning. As far as he could tell, Poe had spent five long hours doing nothing but opening and closing the wings on his ship, testing out different parts that all looked exactly the same to Finn. But Poe appeared pleased with whatever result he was achieving. With a final nod of approval, Poe gave the side of his ship a hearty whack, then sat down in the shade below the X-wing. He smiled up at the ship. “Well, that’s the S-foils fixed up, anyway.”

Finn hadn’t wanted to bother him while he was working so intently, but he had a question that had been burning in his mind since that morning. “Poe, do you believe in the Force?”

The question caught Poe off guard. “What do you mean, do I **believe in** the Force?” He shrugged. “It’s like gravity. My belief doesn’t matter—it’s just **there** , whether I believe in it or not.” Poe paused for a moment, glancing at Finn, who was looking embarrassed, and his tone softened. “So I guess that the answer is yes, I do believe in the Force. And that it is ultimately a force for good, even if some people don’t use it that way.”

“Right.” Finn didn’t want to accidentally say something offensive, but he was confused. He had learned such conflicting things about the Force, if it even existed. Now Poe was the second person who had confirmed that the Force was real, at least, though Solo had been a bit cagey about it.

“Why, what did they—” Poe gestured vaguely at the sky “—teach you about the Force? I mean, they must have brought it up, given Kylo Ren and all.”

“It was weird.” Finn didn’t know any other way to describe it. “In training, they discussed the Force a little bit, as an ancient religion, one of several. We learned about the Jedi Knights, but were told that they were in pursuit of power and were corrupt, harnessing the force to fight against the good of the Empire. Some instructors said that their use of the Force drained it away from average people, like there was a set amount of Force in the world, and the Jedi Knights controlled it all. Other times, they just said that there was nothing to the Force, that it was an illusion, something made up by the Jedi to confuse and scare everyone else.”

“I can’t see how they could deny it, with Ren walking around.” Poe recalled his own introduction to the history of the Force, so different from what Finn had been taught.

“Well, both versions were believable for a while. Killing the Jedi Knights was supposed to return order because it would expose that the idea of the Force was all a lie. Or, at least release their hold on the Force, if it was a real thing. But then—”

“Kylo Ren showed up.” Poe’s eyes narrowed, thinking of the man.

“Exactly. He wasn’t a Jedi Knight, but he was using the Force. We were told that he was continuing Darth Vader’s work, still trying to bring balance back to the universe. But it seemed like all he was doing was increasing his own power, somehow.” Finn thought of the few times he had seen Kylo Ren vent his anger upon his fellow squadmates, and the night on Jakku, when he could feel those eyes on him, singling him out in the crowded battlefield, as though Ren could read his every thought. “Whatever he was doing, with or without the Force, it certainly made him—” Finn searched for the right word. “—terrifying.”

“Powerful.” Poe spoke at the same time, dropping his gaze to the ground. He didn’t want to think about Ren’s abilities. He was glad when Finn spoke up again.

“Poe, do you—” Finn wasn’t quite sure how to word the question. “Can you feel it? The Force, I mean?”

Poe laughed. “Not like General Organa, that’s for sure.” His expression grew thoughtful. “But honestly, yeah, I think I can, a little. While I’m flying, anyway. There’s just this...connection? I don’t know how to describe it, exactly. But there’s an energy between me and the ship and the sky and the planet. When I’m up there, I’m not just—” Poe made a steering motion, reminiscent of a child mimicking a pilot “—you know, pushing buttons and making the ship go up and down. Up there, it’s **me** , flying. I feel the air holding me up. Without thinking, I can just barely skim the surface of a lake or a field. I can tell you the exact trajectory a missile will take in any wind, and I know how close I can dodge the blowback from a torpedo.” He chuckled ruefully. “Maybe that just means I’m a **really** good pilot. But, to me, it feels like there’s something there with me, working with me. Helping me.” His voice grew quiet. “I felt it the first time I went flying. I was young—five, maybe? My mother took me up in an old A-wing. It was like the whole world was singing to me, reaching out for me to grab it.” Poe looked up, noting Finn’s amazed expression, and chuckled ruefully. “And **that** is hopefully the craziest thing I will say today.”

“That’s not crazy, Poe, it’s—”

Poe grinned. “I’m pretty sure you need to be born into a Force-sensitive family to actually **feel** the force, to use it. But who knows. Whatever it is, it keeps me in the air when I’m flying, so I’ll take it.” He cleared his throat, adopting a note of mock gravitas. “What about you, Finn, do **you** feel The Force?”

“You know, up until a couple of days ago, I would have said ‘no,’ but on Takodana, I had to use a lightsaber for a while to try and defend myself.” Finn paused, biting his cheek in thought. “Though, thinking back, it really didn’t go all that well.”

“You’re still alive.” Poe had heard stories that lightsabers could be deadly to the untrained. Due to their unpredictability, they were likely to kill the user, if they weren’t powerful in the Force. But, of course, those were just legends.

“True. But it felt like the lightsaber was fighting me, like it was mad that I had no clue what I was doing with it.” Finn smiled at Poe. “And that’s the craziest thing **I** will say today, if I’m lucky. An inanimate object being angry. Arguing with me.” He chuckled. “But, like you said, it felt like there **was** a connection there. Maybe that was the Force.”

“Maybe.” Poe was looking at his hands. Neither spoke for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. Poe began to pack up the toolkit, but he was distracted, and kept rearranging the order of the tools in the box.

Finn had an uneasy feeling that he had said something wrong. The mood had changed, somehow, and Poe looked like he was contemplating something unpleasant. Finn tried to think up something to say that might cheer up his friend a little bit. “I hope we can find him—Luke Skywalker, I mean. If he can use all that power? Maybe, with him, we can defeat the First Order. Take down Kylo Ren.”

“Yeah. I hope so.” Poe's voice was distant. He stood up abruptly and slapped Finn on the back. “Hey, it’s late, let’s go grab some lunch before they put everything away.”

Finn jumped up to follow him, a knot in his stomach. Poe was acting so strangely all of a sudden. Now Finn was certain he'd said something wrong. He just wasn't sure what it was, or how he could try to fix it.


	2. Faith

Something was definitely bothering Poe, Finn was sure. Poe hadn’t said much as they walked over to the cantina, and he had barely smiled when Finn joked about getting ‘square meals’ as they picked up their ration tins. Given the hour, it wasn’t hard to find an empty table. Most people were already back to work.

Finn started in on his lunch with some trepidation, but was surprised to find that the food tasted better than he was expecting. He saw that Poe wasn’t eating, though—instead, he was staring into space and tapping his fork distractedly on the edge of his tray. “Hey, uh, Poe? You should try it, it’s not actually as bad as it looks.”

“What?” Poe spoke more sharply than he had intended, startled out of his thoughts. “Sorry, I was still thinking about our conversation. About the Force.” Finn nodded at him, encouraging him to continue. “I mean, it’s one thing for all the people who are able to feel the Force. Especially for the ones that can **use** it. Even for people like you and me, who can maybe sense it, sometimes. For all of us with some sort of connection to the Force, there’s something—not tangible, exactly, but **real** , to hold onto. For us, that’s proof that the Force exists. An element of faith isn’t necessary.”

“Yeah—” Finn wasn’t sure what had prompted this line of thought. “Though, I guess that there has to be some faith that the connection isn’t just imagined, right? Or for people who are actively using the Force—Jedis, or whatever—that it will still be there to guide them the next time they call on it?”

Poe considered this. “That’s true.” He smiled sadly. “Sorry. All this talk about the Force just got me thinking about one of my old friends. All his life, he believed wholeheartedly in the light side of the Force, but he wasn’t able to sense it, even a little bit. I think he gave up trying, eventually—decided that, for whatever reason, he wasn’t meant to be Force sensitive. But he never seemed resentful. It just made him trust in the Force even more.”

“Pretty strong convictions, to believe in the Force even though he couldn’t interact with it directly.” Finn chose his words carefully. By the way that Poe was speaking, Finn could tell that the person in the story was dead. He didn’t want to be insensitive, accidentally say the wrong thing.

“Oh, he had plenty of second-hand experience with the Force. He was a kid during the Clone Wars, so he saw the world when there were lots of Jedi knights still in it. And he worked with the Rebel Alliance back when they were fighting the Empire, when Yoda and Luke Skywalker were actual people rather than legends.” Poe sighed. “He was a good family friend. My mother used to take me to visit him all the time when I was little. I loved to hear his stories about traveling the galaxy. He was always in search of Jedi lore, trying to dissect out the history from the myths.”

Finn had finished his food and leaned back in his seat. “Sounds like an interesting guy. I would’ve liked to have met him.”

“In a way, you did. His name was Lor San Tekka. He lived in Tuanul. He was the reason I was on Jakku that night.” Poe finally looked up from his tray of untouched food, meeting Finn’s eyes.

“The old man in the village?” Finn remembered him. His courage, standing up to the Stormtroopers—and Kylo Ren’s brutal response.

“I don’t know if I led them to him, or if we just all showed up at the same time. Maybe the First Order picked up the same information that the General had gotten, that he’d found the map to Skywalker.” Poe shrugged resignedly. “I guess it doesn’t matter now. I told him to hide, but even then I knew he wouldn’t. He wasn’t just going to watch the village get destroyed as they searched for him. I think he believed he might be able to get through to Kylo Ren.” Poe could feel the tears welling up in his eyes and he shifted his gaze upwards, trying to prevent them from falling. “That’s how much Tekka believed in the light side of the Force. He trusted that he might be able to cut through all the hate and get down to the good kid that he’d known twenty years ago.” Poe’s tone was edged with bitterness. “And what did he get for all his faith in the Force? Murdered by that **animal**.” Poe slammed his fist on the table, rattling the cutlery. “The Force betrayed him.”

Finn wished he could think of something comforting to say to Poe. He felt terrible for bringing up the topic earlier. He stared wide-eyed at his friend, frantically trying to come up with anything to do or say that might help.

Poe exhaled slowly and dropped his head into his hands. He thought he normally had a pretty good hold on his emotions, but Tekka’s death was still too raw, and remembering that night brought everything flooding back. He didn’t move from his guarded position as he continued to talk, voice muffled and thick with tears. “Everything I said this earlier about the Force, what I believe? A week ago, that’s all there was to it. But now, when I think about what happened to Tekka, I wonder if I’m wrong. And I don’t know what’s worse—that uncertainty, or the feeling that if I lose my trust in the light side of the Force that I’m letting Tekka down.” Poe took a long, deep breath to steady himself and glanced across the table at Finn, who looked frozen. He squared his shoulders, putting his hands back on the table between them. “Hey. I’m sorry to lay all this on you, you don’t need that.”

Finn shook his head emphatically. “No, no, don’t apologize. If there’s one thing I know about, it’s this. Wondering if something you believed—something you were sure was true—thinking it might be wrong? It’s hard to deal with.” He leaned forward and tentatively placed his hand atop Poe’s. “I know what that’s like.”

Poe managed a shaky smile and placed his other hand over Finn’s, giving it a grateful squeeze. “Yes you do. Thanks, Finn. For listening. It helps.” He slid his tray of uneaten food over to Finn. “You said this was good, right? You should have it. Don’t want to let it go to waste.”

“Well, I didn’t say it was **good** , exactly, but it’s a whole lot better than what Solo cooked up when we were on the Falcon.” Finn was encouraged to see Poe chuckle a little at his joke.

Poe leaned back from the table, watching Finn eat, and laced his fingers behind his head. “Man, you and I have both had a hell of a week, you know?” He let out a long breath, then cracked a crooked smile. He reached over, swiping a cookie from the tray sitting in front of Finn. “But as long as we’re well fortified with dessert, I think we’ll be okay.”

Finn took a cookie for himself, then wordlessly pushed the plate of dessert back in front of his friend. He wanted to thank Poe for sharing his doubts, his fears. Seeing Poe’s vulnerability let Finn believe that his own confusion—every mental conflict arising from his sudden radical shift in identity—whatever he was feeling wasn’t wrong or abnormal. But Finn couldn’t figure out how to say it. Every way he tried to phrase it in his mind, it sounded like he was glad that Poe’s friend had died, so he could have a mental-anguish buddy.

Poe polished off the last of the cookies, feeling better, but still disappointed in himself for his lousy control over his feelings. And by the way that Finn was silently staring at him, he must have rattled the poor guy with his outburst. But he was glad that Finn had been there. It was true, it **had** helped Poe to have someone listen, to be able to let out some of the tumult that had been bottled up inside. Poe rubbed his eyes tiredly and wished he could come up with something to say that didn’t sound trite. Instead, he pushed his thoughts aside, those of Tekka, of the Force, of Finn, and focused on the combat ahead. There was still work to be done on his ship. He stood, gesturing slightly over to the airfield. “Back to it?”

Finn nodded, and followed his friend silently out of the cantina.


	3. Trust

Poe and Finn had spent the waning hours of the afternoon testing the multitude of tiny lights studding the exterior of the X-wing. Half a dozen needed replacing, but they just managed to finish before they had to part ways to attend specialized briefings. Finn had met with Han Solo and a group of tacticians, sketching out various possible access points to the Starkiller Base shield generator, highlighting the weaknesses of each. Finn had initially thought they should work on just one entry strategy, targeting the weakest point and planning down to the tiniest detail to minimize the chance that something might go wrong. Finn liked a single, focused, sturdy plan. But he hadn’t considered that the weather patterns and troop movement on the base might vary with a sudden storm. Or worse, that the First Order command might discover their initial plans and heavily fortify their weakest areas. Finn left the meeting confident that they would make it into the generator building, but a bit unsure of what would happen after that.

Poe’s meeting ran long. He quickly grabbed a tray and found Finn sitting alone at the periphery of the room as he finished his meal. Poe wolfed down his food as Finn told him about the tactical meeting, and nodded when he heard what had happened. “Solo’s like that. Has a lot of ideas, but doesn’t want to get too far along any one of ’em, planning-wise. Always says it’s better to get creative, work with what’s happening at the moment.” He finished his drink, tossing the cup onto the tray. “Which, to be fair, has panned out pretty well for him all these years.”

Dessert that night was a big hit with everyone. One of the cooks had whipped up a batch of ice cream as a special treat. Better yet, the base had limited cooling resources, so all of the ice cream had to be eaten that night. For that reason, Poe didn’t feel guilty as he swiped two extra large bowls as he and Finn exited the cantina. With feigned stealth, he handed one to Finn once they were twenty paces outside the door. “Shhh, don’t want ’em to see our contraband!”

Finn stirred his bowl of ice cream thoughtfully as he walked. “Poe, where did they get the milk? Is it all rehydrated? Or did they actually find some sort of milkable creature on this planet?”

Poe ate a spoonful of ice cream, savoring the taste, before answering. “Best to not think about it too much. But if you don’t want your share—”

“Oh, no, I plan to eat it. I’m sure dewback milk is a delicacy.” They reached the campsite, and Finn set his bowl of ice cream down carefully next to his bedroll.

Poe tossed a few branches messily into the fire pit atop the previous day’s charred logs. He smiled as Finn tsked at him and stepped in to rearrange the firewood in a more suitable manner. “Hey, at least it isn’t tauntaun milk. I hear that’s banned in a lot of marketplaces.”

“Because of the smell?” Finn caught the box of matches that Poe tossed to him, and lit the kindling.

Poe nodded at him, wrinkling his nose. “Tauntaun-derived products are definitely an acquired taste.” They settled down to enjoy their ice cream and watch the fire.

Thoughts of the upcoming mission began to creep back into Finn’s mind. He didn’t want to worry about that, not then, so he turned to look at his friend. “Hey, Poe? What did you do in **your** meeting tonight?”

“Lots of talk about flight patterns. You know, varied attack formations, how to best avoid the firepower headed towards us. Around the oscillator itself there’s a set type of artillery, so we have to plan how to stay out of its way, while still keeping the targeting field open for us to take it down. And then there’s also the TIE fighters.” He moved his hands together in parallel, mimicking the motion of the First Order aircraft. “It was helpful, actually having flown one. I could tell them a lot about the controls, how they can and can’t move. At least those bigger, two-person ships.” He looked pointedly over at Finn. “Hey, I should bring you along to the next one, to talk about the weaponry. Reload speed and all that.”

“Sure, Poe, if you think it’d help.” Both lapsed into silence for a time. Finn thought of their haphazard escape, and spoke again. “Poe, I've been wondering—”

“Yeah?” Poe had finished his ice cream, and chucked the cardboard dish into the fire.

“That night, when we stole the TIE fighter? Why—” Finn’s brow furrowed. “Why did you trust me?”

“I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?” Poe laughed wryly. “And, actually, I **didn’t** trust you. Not at first, anyway. When you came into that room and said that Kylo Ren wanted me—” He shook his head, remembering. “I really didn’t want to know what he had planned for me next. But at least we were going someplace different than that room, and I thought that might give me a chance to escape.”

“I just said that because nobody would question his order, everyone was too afraid of him.” Finn remembered how scared he’d been. But his desperation to escape had been a little more powerful than his fear.

“When you pulled me into that hallway, I still figured that it might be some sort of twisted game that Ren was playing. You know, get my hopes up, lead me into the middle of some sort of maze, and the give the go-ahead to use me for target practice.” Poe recalled that night vividly. His exhaustion. The adrenaline.

Even though they had both been terrified, they had formed an almost instant alliance. Finn smiled at the thought. “You know, for all your bravado, you flinched. When I took off my helmet.”

“Hey, I didn’t know—maybe you were gonna clock me with it!” Poe laughed. “And I was also surprised—I don’t think I’d ever seen a Stormtrooper take his helmet off before. I wasn’t sure what to expect under there.”

“No big scary monster, though. Just me.”

“Well—” Poe drew out the word, then ducked, laughing, as Finn threw his empty ice cream bowl at him. “But, really. I remember hearing the words you were saying, about it being a rescue or whatever, but I didn’t actually believe it could be true until I saw the look in your eyes. Don’t ever play poker, Finn.”

Finn fiddled with the plastic spoon, testing how far the handle could flex. “But I **did** lie to you, at first.”

“What, with the whole ‘Because It’s The Right Thing To Do’ bit? Yeah, maybe it wasn’t the reason for the urgency, but it was ultimately why we were plotting to steal a ship to escape. Because it **was** the right thing to do, for us to get away. So it wasn’t a lie. And I could see that.” Poe recalled how desperate Finn—no, FN-2187, then—had looked, and the surge of joy that lit up his face when Poe had made his brash statement about his prowess as a pilot. “Also, you were positively gleeful when I said I could fly your ship. I don’t think anyone could fake that level of excitement to escape.”

The fire snapped merrily, sending a few sparks dancing into the night sky. Poe glanced over at his friend, who was slowly tracing the lines in his palm with the end of his spoon, and a thought struck him. “Quid pro quo, Finn. Why did **you** trust **me** to fly you to safety? Which I did in most glorious fashion, I might add.” Poe chortled at the audacity of his own statement. “But really, for all you knew, I could’ve been planning to eject you into space the moment the TIE fighter left the hangar.”

Finn sighed, and cocked his head to the side, resting it on his bent arm. “You know, I’d been sent for evaluation once I got back from Jakku. They analyzed my blaster, made sure it was in working condition, then put me through the same testing. Making sure **I** was in working order. Based on what the found, I was scheduled for ‘reconditioning’ the next day.” An uneasy look clouded Finn’s eyes as he contemplated what that could have entailed. “I had no idea what that meant. It could’ve been anything from watching a series of videos to getting a lobotomy. But I was terrified at the idea that they could do something that would make me lose my resolve—force me to kill for them after all. Either voluntarily or not, through retraining—brainwashing—taking away my ability to think or decide for myself, I couldn’t let them use me any more. I decided that I’d rather die trying to escape than let myself stay there.” He looked up at Poe, and his expression was open and earnest. “Either way, it would’ve been worth it. Five minutes of freedom—even if that’s all I got—that would’ve been better than whatever the First Order had planned for me.”

Listening to Finn, Poe had pressed his closed fist to his lips, as though he was trying to prevent something from spilling out. He met Finn’s eyes and mutely nodded, understanding his reasoning. More than that, he fiercely admired Finn’s resolve, his resourcefulness, and his almost pathological humility even in the face of his undeniable success in escaping. Poe gazed at Finn’s silhouette in the flickering firelight. He was hit with a pang of longing so acute that it nearly took his breath away. Poe smiled ruefully. They had formed an instant bond during their escape—not unusual, as shared fear and exhilaration inevitably could crystallize a partnership of necessity in mere seconds. But those connections, as vital as they were in the moment, often faded in the face of normalcy. And yet this—friendship? Poe could at least think of it as that, however much he might want it to be something more—their friendship had grown, despite its tenuous beginning. _Maybe it’s just ’cause we still haven’t gotten to ‘normal’ yet. Maybe it’ll still change, we’ll drift apart, even if we can buy ourselves a little bit of peace._ Poe hated that he had to think that way, but he was ultimately a pragmatist. And they had a war to fight. Love was a distraction. _Wait, love? I've known the man for, what—two days?_ Poe shook his head, trying to clear away the startling thought. _This could be dangerous._

He realized that he’d been silent for a while, and cleared his throat, trying to push thoughts of romance as far away as he could. “Well, I think we would’ve both preferred a different scenario—y’know, me not captured, you not forced to be a Stormtrooper—but given what happened, I’m sure glad we crossed paths when we did.” He grinned broadly at Finn, who returned the smile. “Also, I’m pretty lucky that you needed a pilot at all, or else you could’ve just taken off by yourself, whenever.” Poe looked critically at his friend. “Actually, that’s something we should fix.”

Finn began to protest. The idea of learning how to pilot a ship in such a short timeframe—they were heading into battle in just a few days—he was sure it would be a disaster. “Do you think there’s time? I mean, I’d love to learn eventually, but the whole process seems pretty complicated.”

“I didn’t mean, like, **tomorrow** —but once this campaign is over. When we have a little time. I can take you up in a two-seater, get you started, just the basics.”

Finn laughed, relieved. “Lesson one: How not to crash.”

“Yeah, that’s a pretty important one.” Poe watched his friend yawn and rub his eyes tiredly. “Hey, we should probably hit the hay. Lots of little stuff to do tomorrow, nothing too major, but it can be fiddly work, might take a bit longer than planned.”

Finn yawned again. “Sounds good. G’night, Poe.” He pulled his blanket up over his shoulders and rolled over onto his side. He was exhausted, but sleep didn’t immediately overtake him. Finn was surprised to find that his mind was racing. He was feeling...unsure. Confused. Since his arrival at D'Qar, Finn had begun to rely on Poe’s friendship, his counsel. Poe listened to Finn's thoughts, and didn’t pass judgement on his history. For these simple kindnesses, Finn was immensely grateful. But there had begun to be something new, a fleeting desire that accompanied his camaraderie. Finn wasn’t able to fully understand the feeling. But he had begun to want more. A closer connection to his friend. The ability—the privilege—to offer comfort to Poe in his times of grief, and the intimacy to draw forth a smile or a laugh when no other could do so. As Finn drifted off to sleep, he resolved to keep those feelings to himself, at least for the time being. He didn’t want to overstep the tacit boundaries of friendship that he was only beginning to learn. He wasn’t willing to risk what they already shared.

Poe gazed at the twinkling stars, listening as Finn’s breaths grew deeper and slower as he gradually drifted off to sleep. Poe knew himself. He knew that he needed time. As much as he would love to dive headlong into his growing—adoration? infatuation? love?—well, whatever was developing with Finn, Poe felt that it wouldn’t be fair to either of them. Worse, he knew that the intensity of his own feelings towards his friend could easily blind him to Finn’s own wishes and desires. With a start, Poe realized that he didn’t have the first idea of what Finn might want for himself—what he even could understand about romance, or love. He couldn’t imagine that the First Order encouraged the idea of fraternal love—much less romantic—amongst its troops. Darkly, Poe considered that, to create a more perfect human weapon, the First Order could have simply engineered a way to block any positive emotions. Physically, chemically, psychologically—it wouldn’t matter how they brought it about—they could have created Stormtroopers incapable of feeling anything but hatred. Yet Poe didn’t doubt that Finn had the capacity to feel love. In the short time he’d known the younger man, Poe had seen him demonstrate unwavering bravery, loyalty, and compassion. So, whatever the Stormtrooper training had done to him, at least it hadn’t robbed Finn of the ability to feel and express his emotions. It had not stripped away his humanity. Poe resolved to discover what he could—gently, at Finn’s pace—see if he could get his friend to share his thoughts, his basic knowledge about romance. He smiled to himself as he let his eyes close and his thoughts drift sleepily. _Once I know what he’s looking for—then, maybe, I’ll let myself hope it might be me._


End file.
